


| bruises and blossoms. |

by terrabisa



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arranged Marriage, Childhood Friends, College Student Eren Yeager, Dominant Eren Yeager, Eren Yeager Has a Manbun, Eren Yeager is a Little Shit, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Mildly Dubious Consent, Older Eren Yeager, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Public Sex, Rich Eren Yeager, Supernatural Elements, Vigilante Eren Yeager, and just a little bit toxic sometimes, mikasa has a one sided crush, reader's dad is kinda sus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28817133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terrabisa/pseuds/terrabisa
Summary: Four years after you've last seen Eren, your childhood friend, you reunite with him at a dinner party. Not only do you find out your father has arranged you to marry him, but you soon realize Eren is a completely different person now, shrouded in mystery and cold calculation. Unknown to you, you become tangled in a web of revenge and conspiracies, manipulated by those around you for their on ends. And although you suspect Eren might be one of the ones manipulating you, it's hard to resist your growing attraction for him.This isn't the Eren you knew anymore. But then, just who is he? That is exactly what you're planning to find out.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Annie Leonhart, Eren Yeager/Reader, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Mikasa Ackerman/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 19
Kudos: 74





	| bruises and blossoms. |

* * *

“Sorry, you did what?” 

The question is for your father, hurtled across the long dining table. There he sits, at the end of it, crowning himself king of this hollow and joyless piece of furniture, catching up with the morning news on his phone. 

“I invited Eren over for dinner,” he replies, distracted, as he takes a shallow sip of his lukewarm coffee. “Tonight.”

“Eren Yeager?” 

What a redundant question. You know no other people named Eren, yet you still find yourself needing clarifications. Your father looks up from the small screen and thins his lips.

“Who else?” he says.

“Why?” You’re not seated at the table. Not yet. Instead, you prefer the inkling of power instilled into you by the towering of your standing figure. It makes you feel less small in the eyes of your father.

“I heard he’s moved back into town and I remember that you two were quite close once. That’s all.”

He’s not wrong. You and Eren became friends in middle school, back when no one else wanted to be around either of you. It’s hard to forget someone like Eren Yeager, a loud boy with a fiery temper and ambitions that far exceeded his qualifications. He wanted to change the world, become president, or a judge, or a lawmaker - anyone with the power to make the justice system less ‘rotten’, as he’d always call it.

When he was 10, Eren’s father, Grisha, disappeared. Only a few months after, his mother, Carla, was murdered by two unknown men that had sneaked into their home. Eren had been living with Hannes, a family friend, ever since. Maybe to compensate for the looks of pity, Eren took it upon himself to be needlessly aggressive toward everyone. He always got into fights and he rarely respected the teachers. 

But for you, it was a great match. You mostly kept to yourself, and Eren was that one fearless friend that always took on the harder tasks for the both of you. Then, graduation and the time for high school came. You decided to stay in Paradis City, while Eren said his goodbyes and left without ever saying where he was going. 

This only makes his alleged return to Paradis, four years later, even stranger.

“How do you know he’s back, dad?” you ask, visibly confused.

“Grisha and I were business partners, remember?” You watch as he downs the rest of his coffee and stands up, slowed down by the strain on the hip surgery he had two years ago. “I’m sure he will tell you everything you want to know tonight. I have to run now, sweets.”

He kisses the top of your head, grabs his suitcase with one hand and the white lab coat with the other, then disappears out of the door. 

That day, while sitting in your room and pondering your father’s sayings, you manage to find the phone you were using in middle school, stocked in some shoe box tossed away in your closet, buried in a sea of other disposable junk. You plug the charger into the socket and, thankfully, manage to turn it on.

Eren’s number is still saved in there, though you have your doubts about him having the same one. Still, it doesn’t hurt to try, so, after a few lengthy moments of anxious fidgeting, you press the dial button.

It rings.

You don’t know what takes over you, but a spark of panic has you hanging up immediately. Actually, no, that’s not good enough. Just for extra security, you shut the phone off completely and hope that he doesn’t have your number in his phone’s memory anymore.

It’s the weekend and college is still a couple of days away from starting. In other words, this means you have nothing to do the remainder of the day except wither away on your phone and computer. Not that you mind it very much, there is nothing the world outside can offer that is more tempting than the comfort of your own room. 

Maybe this is precisely what makes the strike of that 6 PM time all the more nerve racking. Your dad gets back home, announces that Eren will be there in one and a half hours, and you notice that he isn’t alone. Milena, your old maid, is by his side with a bag of groceries.

“Hey there, little missus,” she greets, warmly. “I hope you’re up for some beef bowls. Most importantly, I hope your friend is.”

“Um.” You rack your brain for a memory and watch as she sets down the bags in the kitchen and begins unpacking. “I think so?”

Back when your mother was alive (and you were all still living lavishly off the royalties and financial rewards made off your father’s scientific papers), Milena was a regular presence in the household. At some point, she was fired, but has been returning once in a while whenever your father truly needed a professional hand with chores. 

_Aren’t we in horrible debt? Why is this dinner so important that you’ve called Milena, dad?_

At some point, you have drifted away into your own thoughts, leaving your father and old maid to their discussions. It’s like you’re invisible, which means there is no point to announce your departure. 

“I’ll be in my room, getting ready,” still, you announce. Unsurprisingly, they both ignore you.

Waiting in your room feels like waiting for the end. You don’t understand where this rush of dread gnawing at your innards is stemming from; Eren used to be your friend, after all. You suppose you’ve simply changed, and your energy levels can no longer accommodate someone like Eren Yeager. He’s probably still as full of energy and loud as ever, eager to latch onto nearby people to make them his sidekicks in his quest to always be doing _something_.

You were friends once, but ended up on different paths. Why must your father be rekindling the flame?

Deciding that you can do nothing but grit your teeth and make it through this meal, you start filtering through your clothes. What are you even supposed to wear? It might mean a great deal for your father (for whatever reason), but to you, this is just a reunion with some boy you knew in middle school. 

You decide on an old dress and some stockings to keep the cold at bay.

You sit there, on the edge of your bed, with a mind full of white noise and a tiredness that is already creeping into your bones. When you hear the door ring, your heart almost drops. _It’s fine_ , you tell yourself. _I’ll stay here until someone calls me downstairs. I’ll just pretend I was listening to music and I didn’t hear the door_.

Like clockwork, this is exactly the scenario that unfolds.

“Sweets, I called for you,” your father says, popping his head in through the opening of the door. “Eren’s here.”

“Oh, sorry,” you lie. “I didn’t hear you.”

When you finally do go downstairs, you see him. He’s sitting at the other end of the table, where no doubt your father has decided he’s supposed to be, in proper gender norm worshiping fashion. He’s an archaic and outdated man like that. 

The first thing you notice about Eren is that he’s talking Milena’s ear off as she’s pouring some white wine into his glass. His hair’s gotten longer, caught in a messy bun, and he’s wearing a brown hoodie of some sort. _He really threw on a random hoodie for this, huh?_ You find it almost funny.

“Y/N! Hey!” Eren greets you exactly how you would expect an old friend to. He remains seated and gives you a wave that you awkwardly respond to. 

“It’s been a long time,” you say while your father guides you to the seat next to Eren’s.

“Telling me about it? I remember when you were taller than me.”

“I told you that this was normal for our age,” you reply with a small smile. This puts you at ease a little bit. Truth be told, you have forgotten how easy it was to talk with Eren, how he could seamlessly carry a whole conversation all by himself. Was it exhausting sometimes? Sure. But it was also convenient.

“First things first, a toast,” your father says, raising his glass of wine just when Milena finishes pouring in yours. “May this be the start of something amazing for all of us.”

“May it be just so,” Eren parrots, swigging the contents of his glass. 

You, however, hesitate. Things were already suspicious enough, but now your father is here, toasting as if he’s making a pledge of allegiance or as if he’s gleefully enjoying his last wine before a war.

You take one sip then immediately redirect your attention.

“I didn’t know you were back in Paradis,” you tell Eren. Somehow, you don’t feel like you have much patience to go forward with.

“Ah, yes, that.” He chuckles awkwardly. “I lost your number and it was your dad that called me, so, ahh… I guess I thought this would be a surprise, but it seems that he told you ahead…”

Your father hums in amusement, “I thought it was better to━”

“But _how_ did he find you?” you insist. Your father probably didn’t like that, but, on the other hand, you’re not necessarily thrilled about any of this either. It’s only fair.

“Uhh, well, my dad was a researcher, as you know… Since he’s been missing for a long time, he was declared dead and I got a pretty big inheritance. I invested in his business and started a foundation, but, ah,” he looks around and rubs at the back of his head, “isn’t all this boring talk?”

“Wait,” you quirk a brow, “you have a foundation?”

“Pretty much. I’m hungry. What are we eating?”

You would like a few more details on the whole ‘foundation thing’, but something tells you that you wouldn’t be able to follow beyond the basics either way. For now, you decide to let it go.

“Beef bowls,” you answer him.

“Oh.” His voice gives away his clear disappointment. “I’m… kind of vegan.”

Your eyes grow bigger and, after you stare at him a few moments, you bark out a laugh.

“You’re _vegan?_ What happened to you _making fun_ of vegans? No way!”

“Hey, I was twelve! People change, y’know?” 

_It definitely doesn’t seem like you’ve changed that much,_ you think, stifling your amusement. He seems flushed in angry embarrassment, a kind of emotion that was so frequently present on his face as a child. 

“Ah, I’m so sorry for this, Eren,” your father interjects, motioning toward your old maid. “Milena, can you whip out something quick and appropriate for his taste?”

Eren shuffles sheepishly in his seat, wheeling toward the open kitchen, “Ma’am, there’s really no need to━” 

“Of course there is, silly boy!” Milena huffs. “Do you still like those veggie tacos I used to make you whenever you’d drop by?”

“Oh? I would _love_ one of those,” Eren says, eagerly.

He straightens back in his seat, and a mist of silence veils over the atmosphere while Milena busies away in the background. Something heavy is hanging in the air and you can’t help but observe your father’s somberly thoughtful expression with a pinch of concern.

“Is everything okay?” you muster up the courage to ask.

“Actually, there is an announcement that needs to be made,” he answers, letting you boil in anticipation before he continues. “I have arranged that you and Eren are to be married.”

Your stomach churns, but your brain has a very different first reaction. With a raise of your brows, you let out a wheeze of dry amusement.

“What kind of joke is this, dad?” you huff, looking toward Eren and expecting the same speckles of confusion scattered across his face. You find nothing but a blank expression, and it’s the one thing that makes your smile falter.

“Wait…” you sputter, turning your gaze back toward your father. “You━You’re actually _serious?_ ”

You watch as he intertwines his fingers under his chin, looking anywhere but you in the eye. 

“A colleague at the Institute told me about Eldia Foundation, a project Eren founded two years ago. They fund scientific research. Or, rather, they _loan_ scientific research,” he explains, taking his glasses off and absently starting to clean them with a wipe plucked from his pocket. “I never considered once that I could apply, since we are already in so much debt, but that colleague… he told me they accept things other than money in return.”

“And you offered _me?!_ ” you lash out, not particularly interested in the continuation of his explanation. “What is this, the 1800s?”

“Sweets━”

“And _you?_ ” Furiously, you turn toward Eren, only to find him gawking at you like a deer in the headlights of a car. “You knew about this? You _agreed_ to this?”

Eren stutters through a string of incoherent sounds before he musters something out, “I didn’t━”

With the room spinning around you like a vortex, you abruptly sit up, the loud screech of the gliding chair trailing behind you. 

“I _knew_ something was off about all of this, I _knew_ it! I can’t believe━”

“ _Enough_.” Your father’s demand is followed by the crashing of his fist against the table, a tumultuous rattle of cutlery in its wake. 

It startles you. You can’t help it.

“In high society, which we are still part of, even if barely, marriage contracts are still acceptable,” he says, his tone having undergone a rapid switch from apologetic to _firm_ and _not negotiable_. “Eren agreed to fund me without asking for anything in return. However, for the sake of appearances, we needed a contract of some sort, for legal purposes.”

“I don’t understand _any_ of these things,” you protest, desperately. “What does that even mean? Are you or are you not forcing me to marry Eren?”

“No one’s forcing you to do anything, Y/N,” Eren assures, even if he seems slightly nervous and a bit in over his head as well. “We’ll just need a marriage in papers, so I can show it to my finances department.”

You glare at Eren, observing him as he lowers his gaze, but you have trouble maintaining your fierceness as you shift your attention back to your father.

“Marriage in papers or not, I still have no say in this, do I?” you question, bitterly.

Your father’s hesitance before providing an answer says it all.

“I’m asking for your help,” he says, attempting something akin to a _docile_ tone. You roll your eyes as you turn away from the table.

“And that’s exactly why I wasn’t involved in these negotiations,” you complain sullenly. “I see.”

You kick the chair back under the table and decide to leave the scene to collect your thoughts. You don’t know _where_ you’re going. You’re already heading the way opposite to your room, so, right now, this only leaves you with the hallway near the entrance, which is sheltered enough from everyone else in the dining room. Your father won’t follow, you know he won’t. He can word it however he wants to, but this is a contract that has already been sealed in wax and blood ━ _your_ blood, stolen weaponized.

Sliding down against the wall, you’re crouching and keeping your face buried in your hands. Realistically, there’s not much you can do. You were never the rebellious child, even though you wish you _were_ . After realizing running away or offering alternative solutions are not your tickets out of this, you start to ponder if the offer is really _that bad_.

_At least it’s only a marriage in papers? But it’s still awful… No one cared to ask me. And what if I fall in love with someone and want to marry them? What will the people at the college think? What if I let him do this and he’ll end up pushing me into more things? Worse things?_

“Hey.” 

You hear Eren’s voice from above you, flat and strangely hoarse. You lift your head and see him staring down at you, his brilliantly green eyes filled with an iciness so intense that it leaves you frozen for a good moment, trapped in the enthrallment of his peer.

“What are you doing?” he follows up, in a monotone just like earlier.

“Celebrating. What do you think?” you mumble, picking yourself off the ground. “I can’t believe you━”

You flinch when his arm suddenly shoots toward you and when his palm stops against the wall, right by your head.

“Take the offer,” Eren says, his voice lower and his expression ten times darker. 

You’ve been talking before just fine, making eye contact like normal beings, but something right now is… _different_ . There is something about his gaze that drains the strength from your knees and turns the heat up in your cheeks. It’s then, in that moment, when you forget you’re looking at _Eren Yeager_ , the boy you knew in middle school ━ and even the boy you reunited with _ten minutes_ earlier.

He seems like a completely different person.

“W━What?” You blink away your brief daze and frown. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Me?” he deadpans. “What about you?”

You stare at him like he’s just fallen off the face of the Moon.

“What do you mean _what about me?_ How am I, in any logical way, the bad guy in this scenario?” you fire back, frustrated.

Eren doesn’t respond. Not with words. After his gaze momentarily wanders lower, God knows _where_ , he finds your eyes again and smirks ━ just barely, just slightly, with a tilt of his chin and a hazy laziness in his half-hooded eyes. You notice for the first time that he’s become rather handsome.

“Do you want to know why I accepted this nonsense deal?” he queries, and you notice that he’s leaning forward and bringing himself just _a tad_ closer. 

You don’t realize it, but you shrink down under the pressure of the growing proximity and your heartbeat is picking up its rhythm.

“I would be _very_ interested, actually,” you retort, sharply ━ but not as sharply as you would’ve liked.

“He’s lying to you,” Eren says. “There is no such thing as a ‘societal norm’ pertaining to using marriages as bargaining chips for business transactions. He was desperate, had nothing else to offer in exchange for my money, so he threw _you_ under the bus.”

Your face turns redder, but this time it’s from anger.

“Yeah, _this_ is definitely the way to convince me to accept the deal,” you pipe, trying to step away and reclaim your personal space. Instead, he slams his other hand against the wall and traps you between his arms.

“I accepted the deal to take you away from him.” There is a mute, sizzling rage at the back of his throat as he speaks, mirrored in the coldness brewing in his eyes. It looks so very different from the temper bursts he used to have; not like a whirlpool of fire, but like the ice that gently cracks beneath your feet before it swallows you whole.

“W-What?” you question, confused.

“What kind of father uses his own daughter as payment? There is something seriously wrong with this man.”

“And with _you_ there isn’t?” you laugh, mockingly, planting a hand on his chest. “Let me go.” You give a light push, but he doesn’t budge.

“Let you go where? He’ll send you back to me, you know.”

“Okay, you know what? There is _definitely_ something wrong with you.”

“Mmm,” he muses, emitting a sound that is somewhere between a hum and the very faint tremor of a growl. “Maybe.”

He’s leaning forward again, inching closer and closer, greedily swallowing up piece by piece of your space and breathing. You notice that he’s starting to move one of his hands, his palm smoothly gliding along the wall, just barely hovering by the outline of your body.

“When you think of it, your dad doesn’t really know me at all,” he purrs, dipping his head into the heated opening of the crook of your neck. “He only met me two or three times, when I was a dumb, little kid. Imagine if I took this contract seriously. You’d basically be my property.”

You find your breathing hitched in your throat, now dry and booming with the rampant thumping of your heart. You don’t know whether to focus on the goosebumps of the hand that keeps grazing the curves of your figure, Eren’s puffs of hot air against your neck, or the knee he tactfully pushes between your legs.

“ _That_ would definitely be like in the 1800s,” he coos, and you swear you can _feel_ him smirk against the skin of your neck when his knee briefly taps against your inner thigh.

Suddenly, he retreats ━ and the first thing you see as you start to thaw out of this hypnosis is the same pair of icy eyes as before. It takes you a couple of moments to regain composure and to realize that you’ve regained your personal space back and that Eren is now simply standing in front of you, at a _normal_ distance.

“Do what you want, obviously,” he speaks, though you’re having a hard time hearing him while you’re still processing through what has just happened. The swarms of butterflies in your stomach are definitely not helping. 

You’re about to say something when you notice him turning his head and gazing along the hallway, toward the dining room.

“I won’t let him kick you out if this is what you’re worried about. But don’t think he’ll stop at me.” These words are enough to shatter the magic and kill the butterflies. “I’ve seen many men like him before. He doesn’t want to protect his wealth, his work, nor his daughter.”

His eyes find yours again and, suddenly, you feel small under his gaze, so cold and foreign.

“He wants to protect his ego,” Eren concludes.

“So, what you’re basically telling me,” you push your fingertips against your forehead, sighing, “is that I should accept this deal so you can _save me_ from whatever horrible ordeal my father _might_ put me through?”

You look at him, but see nothing. It’s like he has the abyss wrapped all around him, shrouded in deflective hollowness.

“ _Great_ answer, Eren.” You shake your head, disappointed. “The answer is _no_. And I’ll go tell my dad the same thing.”

You turn heel and decide to venture back toward the dining room, unaware of whether Eren might be following or not. In fact, Eren is the last thing on your mind as you make that nerve racking trek along the hallway. You felt so decisive when you started walking, but that courage withered and died so _incredibly fast_ . You see him when you turn a corner, sipping what must be his fifth glass of wine, and decide that you need to squash all thoughts under your boot if you are to go forward with this ━ with your demand for _freedom_.

“Dad,” you announce your presence, bringing his attention toward you, “I have something to tell you.”

“ _Whew_ ,” Eren chimes in, showing up by your side with a nervous chortle spilling off his lips, “sorry we took so long. And I’m so, _so_ sorry for all of this. It’s, ahem, totally my fault.”

There is no mask crafted well enough to hide your confusion as your gaze lingers on Eren. Not only do his words make _no sense_ , but he once again seems like a completely different person, basking in the aloof and friendly clumsiness from the start of the dinner.

“Oh, you didn’t get to tell him?” Eren mutters, staring at him with wide, blinking eyes. 

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, Eren,” your father says.

“Yeah, the problem is I need some time to think about this,” Eren contemplates. “I might have… gotten a girlfriend since we first talked about this. Needless to say, this arrangement might make things a bit, err, awkward between me and her.”

_What? What the hell is he talking about?_

“Well, uh,” your father clears his throat, “that’s certainly unfortunate.”

“Just a few days will do, I promise,” Eren pleads, a warm smile pasted on his features. “She’s a very nice girl and I’d like to find a way to let her down gently. So, see, totes my fault. I’m so sorry.”

_Totes? Ew._

You see your father holding up a dismissive hand, his head shaking.

“Take all the time you need, Eren. It’s a huge commitment, I understand,” he says.

“I appreciate it.”

With a glance at his phone, Eren turns toward you, and you’re just as dumbfounded as earlier by the sight before you, by the _person_ you’re looking at, so welcoming and homely and so different from the Eren in that hallway.

“And sorry for upsetting you with this, Y/N. I should get going now━ Ah! Wait. I forgot, I got you some flowers.” You watch as he rushes into the kitchen, prances back, and then places a bouquet of lavenders into your arms. “Kinda did it backwards, but… Can’t be helped.”

_Lavenders…?_ _What a weird choice for flowers_ … 

You find yourself staring at the purple blooms, vaguely hearing the noises of Eren readying his departure in the background. At some point, he says something about turning Milena’s veggie tacos into a takeaway so they won’t go to waste.

It’s your father who interrupts your ponders, feeling the squeeze given by his hands to your shoulders.

“Thank you, sweets.” You look up and see a tearful smile, but you gather no gratitude from it. It doesn’t feel like thankfulness, but rather… like he’s breathing out in contentedness, like he can put his despair to rest for a moment. 

You feel numb when he takes you into his arms, and you have no strength to return the hug.

“You’re the most important thing in this world for me, you know that, right?” he murmurs into your hair, woefully. “I was so scared you’d hate me, but I’m only doing this for you. I have to try _everything_ to make you happy, my little angel.”

_Ah… I understand now… Eren has no girlfriend. He gave me time to think all of this over and took the blame so I wouldn’t upset dad…_

You can’t help but wonder, though, why is Eren going to these lengths to ‘protect’ you from your own father? What does he know that you don’t? 

Through the embrace, over your father’s shoulder, you glimpse Eren’s reflection in the mirror, as he stands in the doorway, about to leave your house. He’s looking right at you, with the same grim and glacial expression from before. For some reason, it helps you remember what made you and him bond as children in the first place: your shared love for flowers.

You watch Eren walk out and close the door behind him, then you look down at the few violet petals leaving the bouquet and scattering onto the floor.

_I remember now,_ you think, faking a smile as your dad pulls back and glances at you with glimmering pride. _Lavenders mean distrust_.

**Author's Note:**

> hello, i hope you enjoyed this first chapter! \o/ i had a lot of fun writing it, and even more fun imagining the future chapters. if you liked it, please drop a comment and help a nervous writer out know what works and doesn't. much love! <3


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